Attraction
by Wicked.Intentions
Summary: Nazi Zombies! Tank/Richtofen. Tank is irresistibly attracted to the doctor.


**Disclaimer:** _Call of Duty: World at War_, all characters and settings, and anything else you would recognize as pertaining to this video game does not belong to me. The plot itself belongs to me. I do not intend to make any money off the writing of this fan fiction; it is merely for entertainment purposes.

* * *

**Title:**_ Attraction._

**Complete Story Summary:** Tank is irresistibly attracted to the doctor.

**Story Pairing(s):** Tank Dempsey/Edward Richtofen.

**Story Rating:** T.

**Chapter Content:** Coarse language, slightly graphic male/male contact, and mention of necrophilia.

**Notes:** There is just not enough of any of these pairings from "Nazi Zombies."

Oh, and this isn't in the least bit romantic, but that's how I find stories of this nature.

This does not have much of a plot. I'm just liking the idea of these two men going at it when the other two aren't around, seeing as how it's my favorite pairing.

* * *

Richtofen's mouth fell open in a moment of surrender, a pleasured noise escaping him, before he bit it off by gritting his teeth and refusing to voice his desires. He felt war-roughened hands grip his hips, steering him backwards towards a nearby wall. His teeth rattled and his vision spotted momentarily when his molester slammed him up against the metal structure.

His hat was knocked off of his head carelessly; his tie was tugged at, dislodging it from its neat position; a couple of the top buttons to his SS uniform were nearly torn out; his once carefully polished boots were scuffed from being dragged around during the doctor's manhandling.

"Doc," Tank panted, burying his face in the other man's neck, his hands cupping the firm buttocks that teased him.

Richtofen squeezed his eyes shut, and his arms remained stubbornly at his sides.

The American soldier pressed himself fully against the hard body of the German, removing any and all space that was between them. He initiated a passionate, rough kiss, plunging his tongue into the Nazi's mouth and sliding it against his. His lips captured Richtofen's upper lip between them, and he sucked lightly on it, increasing the pressure with which he squeezed the man's cheeks. He just couldn't take his hands off them.

"_Vhat_…" Richtofen gasped when they parted for air, "are you doing?"

Tank ignored him and instead forced the Nazi's muscular thigh up and around his waist so that he could begin to properly rut against the hesitant man. Richtofen became wide open and vulnerable to the pleasure that Tank was willing to give to him, and it was apparent by the groans he couldn't silence that he was enjoying it.

The air became heavy with the sounds of the two men panting for air that they couldn't replenish fast enough between saliva-slickened kisses and the groans they couldn't help but voice when Tank rolled his hips against Richtofen's.

At long last, the Nazi willed the muscles of his arms to contract and move his arms upwards to push away the eager American, a string of saliva lewdly connecting their lips together. His head fell back against the wall, and he watched with half-lidded eyes in a haze as Tank glared at him, not content with this interruption at all.

Tank refused to put distance between their groins, which were flush together and straining within the confines of the men's trousers. His hands didn't leave the backside that had no doubt been bruised by his enthusiastic squeezing.

"Explain… yourself, American…" Richtofen muttered weakly, turning his head to the side when Tank neared him to silence him with another clash of their mouths. He felt his lips collide with his sharp, hollow cheekbone, and a tongue snaked its way across the taut skin while teeth lightly raked in its path.

With an annoyed sigh, Tank ceased his movements and released the flesh that was cupped in his hands. Embarrassedly, Richtofen realized that his leg was still wrapped snuggly around the man's waist and let it drop back down below them.

Tank didn't meet his eyes and instead took a step back, threading a hand through his hair distractedly.

"Vhy have you done zhis?" Richtofen pressed, crossing his arms and staring the American down.

"I dunno," Tank responded dully. He mimicked the doctor by crossing his arms defensively as well.

The doctor rolled his eyes at that. He should have expected such reasoning from the man. He fidgeted in place. Damn, he was so painfully hard after that, and it was obvious by the way his pants were jutting outwards.

"Look, how 'bout we… skip the talking and get on with it?" Tank suggested lowly, moving forward once again and reaching for the Nazi. He roped his arms around his waist and tugged him towards him. He leaned in to press his lips against his.

Richtofen reacted by throwing his head back.

Tank growled and chose to just make do with what he could reach. He sucked the man's Adam's apple into his mouth, and his tongue wormed around it, leaving wet warmth behind. Richtofen squirmed in delight at these sensations, finding his neck to be particularly sensitive to the advances. His hands shot up and went to Tank's chest to push him away, but he found himself hesitating.

"I do not understand," Richtofen ground out. "Ve're both _men_, ve're _soldiers_, ve're—"

"—_I'm_ so fuckin' hard right now," Tank interrupted him with a snarl, wishing for something to gag the object of his lust. He surged forward and ground an engorged part of his anatomy against the wriggling doctor for emphasis. "What, do I have to talk dirty to ya or somethin' first?"

Richtofen flushed at that, and he nearly gave an affirmation because it sounded so tempting. "No, I… Can't you find somezhing—_someone_ else to do zhis to?"

"If you're suggesting that I get one of those freakbags and put my—"

"—No, I didn't mean _zhat!_ I mean, vhy _me?_ Vhy _now?_"

"Does it really matter?" Tank groaned, hating every second he didn't have that ass in his hands.

"I don't know about zhis… I need to go think."

Tank let out a noise of anger and released the man. He took his place leaning on a nearby wall and gave the German man a dirty, yet longing, look. He undid his pants hurriedly.

Richtofen's brow twitched, and he averted his eyes before he was met with the sight of a very large part of the American. He wordlessly took his leave, fleeing the area to find somewhere quiet and to himself. However, he knew he'd run into the American again sometime later; it was inevitable.

* * *

Tank had a dilemma. Instead of his usual mental fantasies of large-breasted, nude women at his feet, he found that a rather sadistic, unstable Nazi doctor had taken their places. The man would not leave his head, and it was becoming a bit of a problem when he was in the middle of ripping apart a zombie with his Bowie knife and his lower half suddenly sprang upwards when the doctor fell against him after being charged by a zombie of his own.

All he could think about was bending that cruel man over something and shoving himself deep inside him again and again until he found that sweet release within him, showering the walls snuggly gripping him with his seed.

Tank groaned out loud when his thought process became significantly more perverted, and his body responded accordingly.

He crossed his arms and sulked. Currently, he was leaning against a railing near the Pack-a-Punch weapon upgrade machine, the other men on their ways over to where he was stationed.

Just then, Takeo made his appearance and greeted him with a slight respectful bow. Tank grunted, nodding his head once.

Nikolai bounded into the mainframe like a happy puppy, sporting a couple new bloodstains on his military uniform. He was grinning from ear to ear, no doubt ready to share some stories of his slaughter upon the undead hordes.

Richtofen entered last, prim and proper, sporting a spotless uniform. Tank crossed his legs immediately.

"Vell, ve have survived yet anozher day, ja?" he announced once he had joined them in the center of the mainframe. He smirked. "Are zhere any of you zhat need tending to?" He was referring to wounds that could threaten them, of course, but Tank spotted this as an opportunity to get him alone.

"Yeah, Doc, I think I was bitten by one of those freakbags," Tank lied, covering up a spot on his side with a hand, pretending to clutch it in pain.

Richtofen appeared a bit uncomfortable when Tank spoke to him, but nonetheless, he nodded, motioning for the American to follow him back to where he kept his medical supplies. He paused, arching an eyebrow at the Russian and the Japanese. "Are you two vell?"

"Yeah, yeah," Nikolai waved a dismissive hand. "This blood is not mine. It belong to zombie!" He laughed boisterously.

The Japanese soldier spun around on his heel, showing the doctor that he was indeed unharmed and ready for more zombies.

"Very vell." Richtofen exited the mainframe with an aroused Tank in tow.

Nikolai opened his mouth and out came a flurry of words describing in great detail his headshots and the sprays of blood he had let loose from their enemies to an exasperated Takeo. They were definitely going to be there for a while.

* * *

"All right, vhere does it hurt?" Richtofen inquired, turning to Tank when they had reached a stash of supplies in Teleporter A Room.

Tank grinned lecherously. He stalked forward towards the Nazi, reaching for his hand. Seizing the man's wrist in a firm grip, he led it down to his groin and pressed the palm tightly against his erection. "Right about there, Doc. Do somethin' about it, will ya?"

Richtofen furrowed his brow, trying to snatch his hand back, but he found that the other man's grasp was inescapable. "Vhat the hell do you vant me to do about zhat?"

"I got a few ideas…"

"I bet you do." He gave the man a wary look.

"Yeah." Tank forced Richtofen to grip his straining flesh through his trousers. "C'mon, Doc, help a man out here."

"Zhis is so vrong," the doctor muttered. "If I do zhis, vill you go away?"

"Sure."

Hesitating, Richtofen moved a little closer to the man, sliding his hand upwards to the hem of his pants. The hand dove down into the pants and was met with undergarments, which were also penetrated. Richtofen wrapped his hand securely around the naked, warm organ and jerked his hand upwards and downwards without passion.

"It's too dry," Tank complained through gritted teeth. As good as it felt having the Nazi willingly get him off, he needed lubrication. He jerked slightly in the man's grip when he thought about him on his knees servicing him.

"Too bad."

The American's hand came to rest atop Richtofen's shoulder.

He was caught off guard when the hand shoved him down into a kneeling position, his kneecaps meeting the cement floor with an agonizing crack. He hissed in pain.

Tank wriggled out of his pants and underwear, freeing himself. He immediately pulled Richtofen forward by a fistful of his hair and thrust between his wet lips, letting out a particularly satisfied moan at the sensations surrounding him. He vaguely heard and mostly felt the Nazi gag on him.

Continuing to guide the doctor by his hair, he ripped his head back and pulled it forward, forcing him into the movements that would provide the most pleasure for the greedy American. Loud groans filled the room. Tank gasped out obscenities, forcing himself down the throat of the struggling Nazi, who gripped his pants, his eyes squeezed shut.

It felt better than Tank could have ever imagined. Sure, he had had his fair share of blowjobs in his life—but there was just something about Richtofen doing it that made him dizzy and his knees shake. He protectively wound a forearm around the Nazi's head, rutting his hips back and forth in time with his own harsh pants.

Finally, Richtofen found the strength to propel himself backwards onto the floor and out of the grip of the aroused Marine. He gagged, saliva and pre-ejaculatory fluids dripping down his chin, clapping a hand over his mouth to keep from vomiting up the contents of his stomach. "B-bastard," he choked out.

Uncaring that he was exposed, Tank took a few steps forward to tower over the doctor, a look of hunger on his face. "Doc, that mouth of yours…"

Richtofen glared his fiercest up at the American, daring him to try something.

And try something, he did. Tank bent over and grabbed the man's knees, forcing his legs apart, lowering himself between them, laying on top of him to keep him into place.

"Vhat are you doing?" Richtofen cried out, his voice high-pitched with his nervousness. "Get off!"

"I intend to," the American told him lecherously, a smirk curling his lips. He pressed his erection against the doctor's clothed backside and began to thrust roughly, imitating the act of sex, making Richtofen protest in that high-pitched voice of his that was strangely erotic to hear.

Tank knew he was seriously messed up for doing this, but he couldn't force himself to stop. He just wanted to remove all of their clothing and do this for real. Something told him that the Nazi wouldn't let him accomplish that without a fight though.

Richtofen flailed his arms, calling out in German to his Führer for help, trying to ignore the feeling of Tank nearly violating him. He then wrapped his legs around the American's waist and flipped them so that he was seated on top of Tank.

Tank blinked at this new development but decided that the other man being on top was kinky and to his liking as well.

"I think you should find somezhing else to help you vith your little problem," Richtofen grumbled, clearing his aching throat—that high-pitched squealing of his was something he couldn't help when he became distressed or excited, but it certainly didn't help his vocal folds any.

Tank's cheerful disposition dropped, and he glowered. He didn't want to admit it in front of the man and out loud, but… "I don't want anything else. I want _you_, Doc," he stressed and insisted.

"Vhat about… zhe Russian?" Richtofen could have punched himself for contributing to this madness, but he had to get rid of the horny American. He couldn't work in such tense conditions.

"Nikolai?" Tank sputtered in laughter. "Fuck no!"

"Zhe Ja—"

"Don't even _think_ about suggestin' the Jap."

Richtofen rubbed at his aching forehead. "You vill have to find somezhing else. I refuse to be your playzhing."

"Well, let's see here. What else here is thin, bony, at one point a soldier, and a Nazi?" he inquired sarcastically.

As if on cue, a zombie clambered up towards a nearby window and clawed at the barricade, letting out a shiver-inducing growl. Its SS uniform, though torn and bloody, included a Swastika armband that was relatively unharmed, clearly displaying it as at one point a Nazi soldier.

Richtofen and Tank stared at it in silence as it tore board after board down, pausing after a couple to grab at its wildly-jerking head, its gaping mouth spilling blood down its front.

"Well…" Tank sighed, "alcohol's never failed me before. So… what the hell? I'll tie it down and give it a shot."


End file.
